


There’s Truth In Good Wine

by LipstickAndWhiskey (CopperMarigolds)



Series: SPN Fluff Bingo 2018 [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dry Humping, F/M, Language, mention of fellatio, not explicit but still NSFW, tipsy makeout
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-31 09:35:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13972260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CopperMarigolds/pseuds/LipstickAndWhiskey
Summary: You just wanted a nice date for once. And when a guy asked you out for Valentine’s Day, you’d jumped at the chance to trade your combat boots for a pair of heels- to feel like a woman and not a hunter for at least a night. Then again, your life never was simple, nor was it ever normal.





	There’s Truth In Good Wine

**Author's Note:**

> Square Filled - in vino veritas  
> Written for @spnfluffbingo  
>  _A/N -  This was originally supposed to come out on Valentine’s Day, but I got horribly sick so y'all get it late. Better late than never._

(Gif Source: [x](http://spn-spam.tumblr.com/post/171147572043))

* * *

It’s still early in the night when you return to the bunker, the two bottles of wine in your paper bag clinking together as you descend the metal staircase. You’re careful of where you step, making sure to avoid getting the heel of your nice pumps stuck in the grating. You huff as you reach the landing, readjusting your grip on your bag as you make your way into the library.

You startle a little at the sight of Sam, reclined in his usual spot at one of the tables, a lowball glass of something amber in his hand. He looks up at you, surprised at your early reappearance. He’s quick to drop his feet from atop the table, wetting his lips as he sets his glass on the dark wood.

“Hey, I thought you’d be out longer,” he asks, taking a peek at his watch. “It’s only nine.”

You smile wryly, setting your bag on the table, reaching down to pull at the buckle on your left heel. “Yeah, so did I. My date was, uh, yeah. No bueno.” You pull off your shoe, stepping onto the cold hardwood and fiddle with your other heel. “He seemed nice until our main course came. Next thing I knew, I was in some freaky fifty shades of grey shit.” You yank off your other heel, pointing the sharp stiletto at Sam, “Freaky fucker is lucky I didn’t stab his ass.”

“Oh shit, what did he do?”

“He handed me a list of things he wanted to do to me. I’m talking full-on freak here, Sam. There was even a list of things he wanted me to do to him. Top of the list was blow him in the taxi!”

“What the hell!“ Sam quickly stands, his jaw ticking as he moves toward you. You grab him by his sleeve before he can get past you, "Sam, it’s not worth it.”

“Like hell it isn’t!”

“Sam, I appreciate the sentiment, but let it go.”

He looks at you for a long moment, weighing the options. “Sam, I got my revenge already anyway.”

With that, his brows furrow as you turn to your bag, pulling out two bottles of red wine. “Casey at the wine bar was more than happy to help me ring up this wine on his tab. They’re easily a grand each.” His grin sparks your own smug one, “Wanna help me work through this expensive-ass vino?”

His laugh is all the answer you’d need.

* * *

Hours later you’re curled up on Sam’s bed, your dress scrunched up around your bent legs and your toes curled into his soft duvet. You watch as Sam inserts the dvd into his tv, giggling as he tries to decide which side is up. Both of you are well into your cups, and more relaxed than either of you have been in a long time. It’s nice spending time with Sam without Dean there to tease you, his annual ‘Unattached Drifter Christmas’ sure to keep him out of the bunker until morning at least.

You take another sip of your ludicrously expensive wine as your thoughts drift back to your horrible date, unaware that Sam has been talking to you until he rests his large hand over your knee.

“Hmm?”

“I was talking to you, but you were spacing out. You okay?”

He’s such a sweetheart. He was always there, always worrying over your health and well-being. 

“I’m fine, Sam.” He just looks at you, doubtful. “I promise,” you assure, putting your hand over his and squeezing, “I’m fine.”

He flips his hand under yours, catching your palm pressed to his. “I can always go back and kick his short ass, y'know. Offer still stands.”

“No, no,” you laugh, “that’s not it, though I appreciate the sentiment, really.”

“So, what is it then?”

You sigh, then yank his hand toward you. “C'mere.” You wait until he’s settled next to you, his soft eyes too sweet to look at, so your eyes settle on his hand still in yours. “I just- I wanted to have a night where I wasn’t… where I wasn’t just one of the guys. Where I wasn’t a hunter. A night where I could just be me.”

“You’re not just a hunter-” Sam interrupts.

You wave a hand dismissively, “I know, I know. I just- I wanted one night where I could dress up and not have to worry about something trying to kill me or you or Dean. I wanted a little romance… a little, I dunno, wooing.”

“Wooing?”

“Yeah, I just- I just wanted to be treated like a fuckin’ lady for once. All the perks 'n all. Doors held open, flowers, a nice meal that doesn’t feature grisly death as dinner conversation.” You’re sure that you were spilling your guts, and yet you keep going. You could only have the wine to blame. That, and those damned puppy-eyes you don’t dare look into. “I just wanted the bare minimum of effort, and what did I get? Some self-centered creep only interested in getting himself taken care of for the night!” You know you’re borderline shouting by the end of your tirade, flushed not only from the wine, but your anger as well. You chance a look at Sam, a stony look on his face. “Sam?”

He turns quickly, cupping the back of your head and before you know it, he’s kissing you. His mouth pushes at yours, hot and fiery as he licks at your bottom lip, your gasp letting him dive his tongue right on in. You grab at him and sit up, draping yourself across his lap as he continues to suck and nip at your mouth, letting one of his hands hold you to him and the other skim up your thigh. You moan into the kiss as his fingers hitch higher before palming at the curve of your ass only covered by your lace panties. You tug at his hair as he squeezes your butt, the pair of you breaking apart on each of your moans. You pant in the short space between you, watching his glazed-over hazel eyes try desperately to focus.

“Shit,” he says, “I- shit.”

“Is that a good or a bad 'shit’?” you ask, soft in his arms and a hand still in his hair. You hope it was a good 'shit’, because damn you could only have dreamt of him kissing you like that until now.

“I just couldn’t stand not kissing you anymore.”

Your smile is as big as Texas, “Oh yeah?”

He smiles too, something mischievous and foxy. “Oh, yeah.” He kisses you again, softer, but still with that same fire that settles into your gut. You give his hair a gentle tug, relishing in the way he growls into the kiss, making you a little dizzy at the heady noise. He presses kisses to your neck, tracing down to your collarbone before nipping at it lightly, before pulling your hair to the side and licking a broad stripe up the side of your neck. You can’t help the shiver that lights up your spine, nor the pathetic whine that leaves your mouth as he nips at your earlobe. He nips at a spot behind your ear, sending your hips stuttering into his own, rubbing your clit right up against the hard line of him pressing against his jeans. He groans, reaching up under your dress again to your ass, encouraging the steady rock of your hips, back and forth. You’re keening into his mouth, drawing feral sounds from him as you keep a dirty grind going, gasping each time his fingers play at the edge of your underwear. You feel like you hang on the precipice of just enough until he shifts his hips, rutting right into the spot that has you tingling all over, grinding harder into him until he’s making his own choked noises into the hollow of your throat. Your hips slow then stop, and you swallow the want to giggle as Sam’s breath tickles your cleavage. After a few moments, you brush back his hair, smoothing the wayward strands back so you could see his face. He lifts his head as you hold it in your hands, smiling punch-drunk and sunny.

“You made me come in my pants like a teenager,” he rumbles at you.

You laugh, smothering it into a kiss you plant on him as you run your fingers through his hair. “I like you so much, Sam. You have no idea.”

He swings you backward, pressing you into the mattress, all crinkly eyes and dimples as you squeal. “I like you a lot too.” He presses kisses around the edges of your dress, chuckling as you wiggle under him. “I’m gonna take you to dinner, too.”

“Oh, really?”

“Oh yeah. ’M gonna do the whole nine yards like you wanted tonight. Gonna wear a suit, bring you flowers at your door, hold your seat out for you to sit down… the whole nine.” He brushes your hair back, much like you did for him, and looks into your eyes like you’re bottled starlight, amazed that you even exist. It steals the breath from you, and you lean up to kiss him full on the mouth, your leg hiked up over his slender hip. He hums into the kiss, cupping your neck before pulling away.

“You’re too good to be true, Sam Winchester. Too damn good to be true." 


End file.
